


Sunshine of Your Smile

by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)



Series: Sunshine [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ace Clint Barton, And Bucky loves him for it, Asexual Character, Avengers Family, Birthday, Clint is a hopeless romantic, Comfort No Hurt, Dancing, Deaf Clint Barton, Feels, M/M, Romance, Schmoop, They’re so in love y’all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia
Summary: Clint has a few surprises in store for Bucky’s Birthday.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Sunshine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688101
Comments: 11
Kudos: 69





	Sunshine of Your Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Give me a smile, the love-light in your eyes  
> Life could not hold a sweeter paradise  
> Give me the right to love you all the while  
> My world forever, the sunshine of your smile
> 
> — Tommy Dorsey Sunshine Of Your Smile (1941 cover) 
> 
> Note: Rodnoy in this context is basically ‘closer than a brother’.

Wow.

When Clint had told Bucky he was taking him out for dinner and dancing for his birthday, Bucky had been content to imagine pizza and hitting the club that Clint likes with the two story speakers that make Bucky’s bones vibrate with the bass; but Clint had told Bucky to dress up, and he’s made the right choice in picking the tailored affair Stark had gotten him for that charity thing last week.

It’s a three piece suit the same grey as his eyes, with silver cufflinks, tie pin, and a watch chain that loops from a vest button to the pocket. It’s cut with wider shoulders and a slightly longer jacket, a style more familiar to Bucky than the more modern suits. He decided to go all in and paired it with a matching fedora.

Clint’s had a suit custom made in a similar style, though in a dark blue that sets off his gorgeous tan, and it makes Bucky’s heart skip a beat. He’s gone to war against his hair to try and mold it into something other than its normal bird's nest and, while he’s lost, it was a valiant effort.

“Ah, man, I shoulda gotten a hat.”

“You look perfect, Sunshine,” Bucky says, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He’s surprised at how smooth it is; Clint’s managed to catch every patch of stubble without leaving a nick or scratch for once, “Gonna let me in on where we’re going?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’, “It’s a surprise. You’re lucky Tasha talked me out of the blindfold. I will let you choose though, we can take the bike or I can borrow one of Tony’s cars.”

It’s so very tempting to go with the bike, Clint’s a skilled driver and Bucky loves the closeness of it, but it had taken forever to get his hair just right, part of it swooping up from his forehead and then tied with a silver clasp in a loose bun at the back of his neck, full of volume but not so much that it will be disturbed by his hat, and a helmet would ruin it.

“Car.”

“Allow me,” Clint says, taking Bucky’s arm and escorting him to the elevator, not letting go until they reach the garage where the faint scent of motor oil and gasoline are just enough to over take the smell of Clint’s (and now Bucky’s, at least when it’s on Clint) favorite lotion.

Clint deftly maneuvers Tony’s ‘32 Roadster (Bucky doesn’t even what to know what Clint had to promise Tony for the keys— though maybe he stole them, the illicitness of the idea is thrilling) through the New York evening traffic until they get to a familiar neighborhood and Bucky starts to suspect he knows where they’re going, though he’ll still be surprised if he’s right. Angelo’s has a month long wait list (Bucky may or may not have looked into it when planning their first date) and he and Clint have only been dating a couple of weeks; it’s not like he would have gotten a reservation while Bucky was still on house arrest.

Except… had he? Clint pulls up to the valet and comes around to help Bucky out of the car, his eyes picking up the green neon from the ‘Est. 1935’ sign.

“Who’d Tony have to bribe?” Bucky asks after they’re seated.

“Um, no one,” Clint says and Bucky would almost say he looks embarrassed, but Clint doesn’t _do_ embarrassed, “I sort of asked Steve and he said this is where you used to take a girl if you were sweet on her.”

“You saying you’re sweet on me, Barton?”

“I was ‘sweet on you’ the first time I first saw you make your grumpy cat face at Tony’s coffee maker; now I’m completely fucking _gone_.”

Bucky remembers that. It was the first time he had ventured out of his room without Steve urging him and he had felt like he wouldn’t survive it without a cup of joe, and then Stark’s monstrosity of a machine had almost made him cry. Clint had shouldered him out of the way, when everyone but Steve had been cautious about even touching him, and proceeded to make the best damn coffee Bucky had had in his life.

He feels his heart fill and run over and he takes Clint’s hand; kissing his knuckles Bucky says, “Same.”

Clint huffs a laugh, “Same?”

“Isn’t that what the kids are saying these days?”

“You’re such a doof,” Clint says, his eyes sparkling in the low light.

When they get to dessert, Clint orders the tiramisu and Bucky says, “You’re making a mistake,” as he orders the chocolate soufflé.

When they arrive, Bucky savors his and so Clint’s is nearly demolished before Bucky’s halfway through.

“I definitely made the right choice,” Clint says.

“Oh, really?” Bucky challenges him.

“Here, see?” Clint takes a moment to craft a perfect bite with a little bit of each layer and holds the fork out to Bucky. Bucky leans over and takes it without grabbing the fork and he has to admit, it’s very good.

He smirks though, pouring a bit of the crème anglaise into his little ceramic pot and then gathering a bite of the soufflé for Clint. Clint does the same as Bucky, taking the bite but not the spoon, and his moan is so pornographic that the woman at the next table over blushes.

“Oh my God, _Bucky_ , that may be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

“I told you. Do you want to order another one?”

Clint considers it but shakes his head, “No, this is still great,” he says, taking another bite of his tiramisu.

Bucky takes Clint’s plate, “Hey! What are—” and pushes over the soufflé, “ _Bucky,_ ” he says in protest.

“I’d rather watch you eat it,” Bucky says, and takes the last bite of the tiramisu.

He ends up getting the last bite of the soufflé as well, Clint scraping the ramekin and then holding the bite out to Bucky, and Bucky sighs in pleasure, more for the look in Clint’s eyes than the burst of chocolate across his tongue.

Clint’s phone beeps, and Bucky holds back a frown; he hopes it’s not an Avengers emergency, and not just because it will cut the date short, but Clint smiles and says, “Awesome, lets go,” he drops enough cash on the table to cover the bill and a generous tip and leads Bucky out to the valet with even more spring in his step than usual.

They stand with Clint’s arm around Bucky’s shoulders and Bucky’s arm around Clint’s waist, “Where to next, doll?”

“Still not telling.”

“Alright, but I gotta tell you, this will be hard to beat.”

~~~

Bucky’s still expecting a club, though a high end one now, maybe even one where there’s a little ballroom dancing, but when they get off the elevator there’s a banner hanging by the door that says, “Frim Fram Jam, Thursday’s” 9 PM - 1 AM, $10 at the door.”

“Frim Fram Jam?”

“Yeah they have a dj and do all those old timey dances; I thought you’d like it.”

“I— it’s not Thursday?”

“The regulars were willing to do something special for us.”

When they get inside there are a few other fellas in suits like theirs, and a couple of gals, as well as a mix of people in a variety of old fashioned dresses, but there are also people in jeans and loose t-shirts, and a few more modern dresses and pressed slacks with polo shirts. There’s mix of every type of couple, a handful of people who appear to be single, and even three people dancing together; on the other side of the room there’s a whisp of a man with dark skin in a wheelchair being spun by a large pale woman who looks as old as Bucky’s enlistment forms make him.

One of the men in a zoot suit turns around and Bucky’s jaw drops as Tony Stark walks over to greet them, “Barnes! Right on time. Happy Birthday to my second favorite ice cube!”

Bucky glares at him, but his heart isn’t in it, and for some unfathomable reason Stark can tell, his smile becoming even broader. He pats Bucky a couple of times on his metal shoulder, something he would never have done as little as two weeks ago.

“Ignore him, he’s experimenting with sobriety for this party, says he doesn’t want to miss out on Steve showing him the Charleston,” Pepper says, coming up behind Stark, she holds out her arms and Bucky accepts her hug, having become somewhat used to her casual affection, at least when she isn’t in Business mode. When she’s on the clock the woman is terrifyingly effective, commanding in a way that reminds him of Peggy, “Happy Birthday, Bucky.”

“Thank you, Ms.— Pepper. He knows Steve has two left feet, right?”

“Oh, he’s aware. He says that’s why he wants to make sure he’ll remember this.”

Bucky chuckles and looks over to Clint, about to make a smart remark, he sees Clint beaming at him and forgets what he was going to say. He hears Pepper say something about Tony being left to his own devices and she presses a kiss to his cheek before she goes.

Bucky can feel the shy smile that wants to come out and does his best to suppress it.

James Buchanan Barnes hadn’t been shy a day in his life, and Bucky doesn’t intend to start now.

“A wondrous affair, Hawkeye! Bucky, you are a magnificent warrior and I hope to face many more battles with you by my side,” Thor booms as he grasps Bucky’s forearm and slaps him on the shoulder.

“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?”

“No, my friend, your liver is perhaps the strongest of us all; never in all my years have I met anyone so sanguine.”

“Thank you? I think,” Clint says as Thor gives him the same grasp and slap.

“I thought you were going to be stuck on Asgard for the rest of the week?” Bucky asks.

“I am only back on Midgard for the eve; on the morrow I must return to the negotiations.”

Thor is a liaison in the negotiations between the UN’s representative and Asgard for the proposed treaty. It was hard enough getting the UN to agree to a list of proposals, now that they’ve been reviewed by Odin, and the All Father’s demands have been through the UN’s Committee for Interstellar Relations, they’re really starting to dig down into the details and Thor’s understanding of both Asgard culture and Earth’s has been invaluable.

“We’re so glad you could make it,” Clint says as Thor moves on and they start to make their way around the room.

“Wow, guess they’ll let just about anyone in here.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Wilson. I’m surprised you were free; aren’t you working on hatching the new flock?”

Sam’s been up at the compound training a handful of new capes who have shown up; Bucky would never admit it out loud, but Sam is a good choice.

“Time off for good behavior, man,” he holds out his hand and Bucky eyes it suspiciously.

“No joy buzzer this time, I promise,” Sam says as he shows his palm. Bucky shakes his hand and Sam says, “Happy Birthday, Asshole.”

“Bite me, fly boy.”

He and Clint dance for a couple songs, when Natasha asks to cut in.

“Dance with me, James,” Natasha says; looking devastating in a vintage number that sets off her hair, done in classic victory rolls, and matches the green of her eyes.

He looks helplessly over at his boyfriend, but the traitor only says, “Have fun, Bucky Bear.”

A couple steps in Bucky breaks the silence, “Is this where you give me the shovel talk?”

Natasha gives an inelegant snort, “I gave up on policing Clint’s life choices a long time ago.”

“So what’s this?”

“It’s just a dance, James. I thought it would be nice to dance with my friend on his birthday.”

“Oh,” he spins her away to give himself a second, and then she’s back, “Thank you.”

“You’re good for him. And I think, maybe, he’s good for you.”

“He is.”

“Good.”

They swing around and he sees Dr. Banner leaning against the open bar, chatting with a surprisingly animated Maria Hill; they both wave and mouth ‘Happy Birthday’ and he finds himself smiling back despite himself.

They finish out the song and Natasha returns Bucky to Clint’s side, “Good party, _rodnoy_ ,” she kisses Clint’s cheek and he sweeps her up into a bear hug, her feet dangling; she laughs and it’s sweeter than Bucky can ever remember hearing it.

After that it becomes a sort of blur for a bit; at one point he loses his hat and jacket; he and Clint have taken a break from dancing and Clint’s gone to get them a couple of waters. Bucky has his shoulders leaning against the wall and his thumbs tucked into his pants pockets, his shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and either the regulars were warned about the metal arm or they just don’t care— probably the later, his isn’t even the flashiest prosthetic here.

When Clint gets back to him Clint gives him a low wolf whistle as he eyes Bucky up and down appreciatively, “Looking good, Sergeant Barnes, looking good.”

Where Bucky is rakishly disheveled, Clint has gone all in, his jacket, vest, and tie are long gone and his shirt is half untucked. The what semblance of order he had conned his hair into is completely gone as it’s standing up in just about every possible way imaginable. He’s even managed to get a tear in one of the shirt elbows.

“Sunshine,” Bucky says affectionately, “Only you could come to a dance hall and—.”

“Happy Birthday, Buck!” Steve interrupts him and pulls him into a crushing hug like only he can; Bucky’s the only one Steve seems to forget his strength around, reverting back to the ninety pound runt determined to hug the life out of Bucky whenever he gets a chance.

Bucky can’t say he minds.

“So, you give it to him, yet?” Steve asks Clint.

“Give me what?”

“It’s a su—.”

“Surprise,” Bucky echoes Clint, “Fine don’t tell me.”

“Later, Bucky Bear, I promise.”

Bucky tries to growl at him, but Clint just laughs, “Come on, Steve, I want to see if the rumors are true.”

Clint grabs Steve’s hand and reaches out to Bucky, “Join us?”

“No way, I like my toes unbroken, thanks all the same.”

“I’m not _that_ bad. I’ve been practicing.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Come on, Clint, let's show this punk what he’s missing.”

Bucky has to admit, Steve has gotten better, for a relative definition of better. It’s more that Clint’s particular brand of clumsy/graceful pairs well with Steve’s earnest confusion, confusion that Bucky is absolutely sure is at least partially manufactured, and they actually look pretty good together. Bucky finds himself pulled in with them despite his earlier misgivings.

It’s late when they finally start to wind down, and for the last song, a spectacular version of ‘Ain’t Got That Swing’ there are only a few dancers, almost everyone facing the musicians shoulder to shoulder; Steve’s to his left and Natasha to his right, with Clint behind him, his arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist and his chin on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky leans back into Clint, savoring what may be the best birthday ever.

~~~

They’re in Clint’s room— really their room these days, when Clint presses a present into Bucky’s hands, and he’s practically vibrating with energy, “Open it, open it!”

Bucky laughs, “You’re the one that wanted to make me wait.”

“Pfft. That was then. C’mon hurry up!”

Bucky takes his time, partially out of habit, his fingers still remember how to be careful with the paper, an echo of needing to save each scrape and make it last as long as possible, partially because it’s just so damn fun watching Clint watch him.

“Oh, Clint! It’s—,” the words come too quickly and all at once and leave him speechless.

It’s a framed pin up, and even without the earlier clue or Steve’s signature in the corner, Bucky would have recognized his hand.

Clint’s in a shooting stance, his back towards the viewer, wearing nothing but a strategically placed quiver around his hips. It reminds Bucky a little of the Coppertone baby, the swell of his ass bright white against the golden tan of his skin and the purple of the quiver at his hip.

Clint’s winking over his shoulder and, in addition to the freckles across his shoulders, Steve somehow managed to capture the ones that dance across the bridge of his nose. Each of Clint’s scars, every one of which Bucky has traced with his fingertips, is a testament to Clint’s ability to not only survive whatever’s thrown at him, but thrive.

He’s eyes are the blue of a clear summer morning, full of mischief and good humor; but it’s his smile that really gets to Bucky, and he has to blink away tears. Clint’s smile is Bucky’s favorite, the sunshiny smile that says everything is wonderful, that inspires Bucky to try to live like Clint does, enjoying every moment to its fullest.

“You like it?” Clint says, and if Bucky didn’t know better he would almost think Clint sounded shy.

“I love it,” Bucky says, pulling Clint into a sideways hug and pressing his lips to Clint’s temple, and he knows Clint hears what he really means.

I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> The Frim Fram Jam is a real place in New York that has a weekly Lindy Hop; they have a bunch of videos but this one helped inform the fic: https://facebook.com/watch/?v=10155203622651613&_rdr
> 
> Please Please *Please* check out the spectacular art linked below. 💕💕💕💕

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [hawktion sketches for Para](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955432) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)




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